


Love is an art (Mine could fill a Museum)

by sincehewas18



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - College/University, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Harry is an art buyer for rich people, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, University Student Louis, Zayn and Niall are together but they are only briefly mentioned, a smidgen of angst, based on a tumblr post i saw and was like hey i could totally write this, everything happens kind of fast, harry is 21/22, harry wears a lot of ysl oops, louis is 18/19, louis obsessed with Harrys eyes, no smut sorry, not a lot of zayn or niall sorry, not tons of dialogue either, oops and hi first meeting, real family names are used, super self indulgent lol, whirlwind romance kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-04
Updated: 2015-09-08
Packaged: 2018-04-18 23:46:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4724675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sincehewas18/pseuds/sincehewas18
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Love is an art. Mine could fill a museum the size of your heart.”<br/>― Jarod Kintz</p>
<p>AU In which Louis is a museum tour guide, and Harry likes to stare at paintings for hours at a time.</p>
<p>or</p>
<p>His eyes were green. The kind of green that grass is, when it starts to peek out beneath the melting snow that litters the ground. They're the kind of green you only see at the beginning of spring, on trees and flowers, and forests after it rains. They're the colour of the churning ocean during a storm. It’s the kind of green that gives you hope, and tells you that no matter what everything will be okay. Looking into his eyes, Louis knew everything would be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> **Hello, quick disclaimer before you read. This is a work of fiction, meaning none of this has ever happened, it isn't real, and absolutely no offence is intended. Does not reflect upon the real life people mentioned in this story. This story and its characters belong to me, so please don't repost, print, or translate unless authorized by myself to do so, this is all just for fun :)**

*L*  
_It was a rainy Tuesday afternoon when he first saw him. Louis thought he must have seen wrong, because there is just absolutely no way someone could be as beautiful as this boy was. Long, chocolate brown curls cascading from the top of his head framed a face with a jawline that could kill. And his eyes. Louis could think of many adjectives to describe them, but none could do them any justice._

_His eyes were green. The kind of green that grass is, when it starts to peek out beneath the melting snow that litters the ground. They're the kind of green you only see at the beginning of spring, on trees and flowers, and forests after it rains. They're the colour of the churning ocean during a storm. It’s the kind of green that gives you hope, and tells you that no matter what everything will be okay. Looking into his eyes, Louis knew everything would be._

**

Louis shifts around in his uncomfortable chair. The museum has been especially slow today. He hadn't given a single tour, answered any stupid questions for any stupid tourists and he hadn't seen _Him_. Maybe the day wasn't slow, Louis just thought it was because he had spent all his searching for those green eyes in the few visitors that did walk through the big glass doors.

He hadn't stopped thinking about those eyes since he last saw them, and that had been nearly two weeks ago.

When the boy walked into the museum those two weeks ago, Louis had literally been breathless. The way his long legs carried him so gracefully, hands tucked into an expensive looking jacket, textbooks tucked under his right arm. And not to mention those eyes, and hair so effortlessly tousled Louis thought it had to be extensions. He doubted it, though, the curls suited him too well to be fake.

He stared as long as he could, before the mysterious boy disappeared into the art section of the museum. Louis half hoped he would walk back out and towards the information desk to ask for a tour. He didn’t, though, much to Louis' dismay.

The day had just droned on from there, with Louis answering too many questions, and pointing too many people in the direction of the loo. He didn't see the boy leave until it was announced the museum would be closing in twenty-five minutes.

So two weeks passed, leading up to today, an equally rainy Thursday night, with Louis staring anxiously at the door for ten hours, waiting for the boy to walk back in. It was slightly pathetic, Louis thought, he just sits there waiting for a glimpse of some boy he doesn't even know, falling for his eyes. And he doesn't even know him yet.

“Lou, earth to Louis,” a bright voice spoke. A hand waved in front of his face, and Louis looked up to see it belonged to Liam. Liam, the slightly annoying, and very chipper (even in the wee hours of the morning) general manager, who also happened to be his best friend and flat mate.

“Since you're not busy,” Liam says, gesturing to the complete and utter lack of guests in the lobby of the museum, “I was hoping you could dust off the paintings frames in the gallery?” He waves a dusting rag in front of louis face, and Louis just sighs, rising from his seated position. Its not like he has anything better to do, like talk to pretty boys with eyes the colour of mint leaves, because he will probably never see those eyes again. So he may as well stretch his legs and admire the artwork. He snatches the rag from Liam's hand.

“I _suppose_ I could take a moment out of my busy schedule to do this for you, but only if you pick up curry for dinner tonight,” Louis says, walking away. He doesn't hear his answer, but even if it was a no, Louis knows Liam will get it for him anyway. He's just that kind of person.

It’s a short walk from his desk to the gallery, but he ends up taking a detour through the natural history area as-well, just to waste time. His bum is numb and tingly from the chair he has to sit in all day, the walk gets his blood flowing again.

The art section is deserted when he reaches it, not a soul in sight. He signs forlornly, beginning to dust the frames carefully with a dainty hand carefully guiding the rag.

Louis not the type of person who can concentrate on one thing for a prolonged period of time. This is the exact reason he took the job at the museum, so he could escape from his dingy bedroom and coursework. Well, it was also partially because he needed money to fund his first year at university. He is eighteen after all, should help out at least a bit with the cost, as his mum had put it.

His official title as Guest Services Attendant mostly entails answering questions about the art and sculptures and the current exhibits that they have open at the moment, but about a month into the job, he took it upon himself to start giving tours.

He had become bored of sitting in the same chair at the same desk and answering the same questions over and over. So, he thought, why not answer all the questions at once? And thus began his tour guiding ventures.

Of course he had to run the idea past Liam before he could actually start giving them, but he said yes without hesitation, agreeing that it would be a great idea.

The next day Louis came into work to see a sign hung above his small wooden desk, reading ‘ _Tours now offered here, just five pounds an hour_ ’.

So it worked out quite well, Louis gave tours, saving him from answering questions over and over, and at the same time he could also study for his required History course at uni (He is tuning drama and isn't particularly interested in art or history, but it's required for his degree). After reciting the history of the Roman Empire, and the story behind all the paintings however many times a day, he had it memorized pretty quickly.  
This memorization came in handy during his unit on Roman civilization. He passed the exam with ease. Couldn't say the same for his mates though. Poor Niall and Zayn had just passed, with scores just above the fifty percent cut off.

So Louis finished dusting the frames, stopping every once in a while to admire the art. His favourite was hidden in the furthest corner of the room, tucked away where most people didn't notice it. The Sirens, painted by Herbert James Draper. He loved the mix of emotions it made him feel. He didn't feel bad for the sailors so much as the sirens themselves. These big muscly men were apparently terrified of three nude women, as they transformed from the fish like creatures into two legged humans. It was actually quite humorous, which is why Louis had dubbed it his favourite.  
He dusts that painting last, so he can have a proper look at it.

After a while his feet start to get a bit sore from the flat soles of his scuffed white vans, so he decides to go back to his little desk and hope that his mystery boy comes by the museum.

**

That night back at his and Liam’s quaint little flat, with its paper thin walls and water stained ceilings, he sits bundled on their couch. There is empty curry containers scattered on the coffee table, and he feels full.

Goggle box is playing on the television, and Liam is off somewhere with his girlfriend Sophia. Louis a tad bit lonely, he can admit that.

He sees Liam all loved up with Sophia at home, even work sometimes when she drops for a quick visit. Then he gets to go to school and see Zayn and Niall holding hands and all that other cutesy shit new couples in their honeymoon faze do. And he wishes he had that. But every time he tries to picture it, all he sees is those green eyes.

 **

After a while, and another week passes, Louis starts to ask himself if he's being irrational or crazy, it must be impossible to fall in love with someone when he's just seen him, not even talked to him. The boy hadn't even looked at Louis, so the chances of him even knowing he exists are quite slim.

He even goes so far as to talk to Zayn about it one night while they're in the middle of an intense match of FIFA.

“Do you believe in love at first sight?” Louis says, pausing the game and turning on the couch to face the other boy.

“No.”

“Well that was quite blunt, wasn't it?” Louis says, huffing and crossing his arms.

Zayn sets his controller on the arm of the couch.

“I think you can like, be infatuated with someone, but not in love. You can't fall in love with someone if you don't know what they're like, you know?”

He finishes his sentence with a shrug and stands up, walking down the short hallway to the loo, leaving Louis to ponder what he'd just said.

Louis supposes he must be right. He doesn't know anything about this boy, he could be a total dickhead and he wouldn't even know.  
He did look rich though.

Louis did a bit of internet searching the night he had first seen the curly hair boy and discovered the coat the he was wearing that day was YSL.

If Louis ever meets this boy, he would hope he's not one of those rich snobs who waves their wealth in everyones faces. That would suck.

He spends the rest of the night thinking of this, before setting into his fluffy covers and dreaming of sirens and long legs.

**

He’s late for his morning lecture, again. Liam watches, laughing quietly as Louis races around the flat frantically looking for his History notebooks.

“Laugh all you want, this was you last year. Rushing about looking for your textbooks. You just had to go and graduate, didn't ya?” Louis sneers, hastily pulling on a pair of tattered black skinny jeans, revealing his textbook hidden underneath them. He does a silent cheer before running down the steps of his 5 floor walk up flat.

The ground is, not surprisingly, slick with rain. It is November in England, rain is to be expected, Louis supposes. He decides he will risk slipping as he weaves through the crowded sidewalks. People give him nasty looks when he bumps into them, or accidentally shoves them. This doesn't make him slow down, though. He’s got a train to catch.

He can see the tube entrance straight in front of him and starts running just a little bit faster. Final call for passengers is announced just as he slips into the station, and through between the sliding glass doors.

As Louis catches his breath (he makes a mental note to go to the gym with Liam more often) he looks around the train in search of an empty seat. But alas, there are none so he has to stand.

Rummaging through his bag to find the white pair earphones he knows he grabbed before running out the door, he catches sight of long chocolatey curls. By the time Louis looks up, the curls have disappeared into another car of the train.

_It probably wasn't him_ , Louis tells himself, over and over. But in the back of his mind, he hopes it was.

He makes it to his lecture fifteen minutes late, but at least he made it.

 

**

 

After class Louis decides to head to the campus Café for some tea to warm his hands. The rain had picked up, progressing from a drizzle to a slight downpur. His jumper had soaked through to his t-shirt running from the tube station to the lecture hall and he had been freezing ever since.

The café is warm, and filled with the sweet aromas of fresh pastries and coffee. The queue isn't too long, so he sets his books on an empty table and steps behind the person next in the line.

It's only when a deep voice rumbles that Louis looks up from the floor.

“Just an herbal tea for me, please and thank you,” the voice speaks.

Louis, intrigued by the uniquely deep voice, peeks around the tall woman in front of him.

It takes his entire being at that moment to stifle a gasp.

Curls. Legs. Striped Coat. Green eyes. Him.

It’s him. Mystery boy is stood six feet in front of him and Louis can’t move.

“Could I get your name, love?” The barista asks, tone flirtatious. She's batting her eyelashes like there's something lodged in her eye.

A surge of jealousy runs through him when the boy delivers a glittering smile in return. Because shit. He’s probably straight. Louis doesn't have time to think about that because the boy is speaking again.

“It’s Harry.” The mystery- well, not anymore- boy says.

Harry. It suits him perfectly, really. It’s a classy name. He’s probably a classy person. The boy, Harry, is dressed head to toe in what Louis now recognizes as YSL, after his little internet searching escapade.

He’s definitely rich, not that it matters.

When Louis finally snaps out of his stupor, the boy is walking out of the Café, flashing a smile and flicking those green eyes Louis’ way, and a steaming paper cup of tea is in his hands.

The door chimes as he opens it, but he stops to hold it open for a young lady who was just about to pull it open herself.

She looks up, clearly surprised and says, “Thank you”.

Harry just grins and says “You are most welcome,” looks to Louis again, and leaves.

Louis is not quite sure what to do with himself at that point. He does, however, decide he doesn't really need tea right now, so he gathers his belongings and catches a train home. Flustered thoughts run through Louis he'd the whole way.

**  
When Louis is sufficiently cuddled up in his blankets and pillows, he allows himself to think of Harry.

Harry.  
Harry who is an herbal tea drinker. Harry who admires art for hours at a time. Harry who is impossibly polite for someone who looks no older than twenty. Harry who looked at him, and smiled. He smiled at _Louis._ This is the entirety of what Louis knows about Harry, and yet he is completely infatuated with him.


	2. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably going to only going to be about a 15k-ish fic, just a heads up. Its also very self indulgent haha

chapter two  
*H*

Harry loves art. Always has, and always will. 

As a teenager he considered going to school to study it, but ended up deciding university life wasn't for him in the middle of his second year. So what does one do when you're nineteen, unemployed and without a degree? You move to London. At least, that’s what Harry did.

It probably wasn't the best idea at the time, considering he was basically broke, and didn't actually have a flat lined up for when he got there, but he was lucky enough to meet Nick in a coffee shop one day. They got to talking and as it turned out Nicks flat mate had just moved to Germany. The room was his, if he wanted it. He did.

So he took the room and eventually became quite good friends with Nick. He even got a part time job at his radio station to help with rent. He was a glorified coffee jockey, not exactly what he would have picture himself doing, but it was fine for the time being.

Then one night he hears about this art gallery opening in Soho and decides to check it out. 

Dressed to the nines and holding a fruity cocktail, he is offered the chance of a lifetime, to become an art buyer for some rich CEO he had never heard of. He was told he had the ‘young finesse’ the CEO, Richard, was looking for in a buyer.

And so that was that. Harry became a buyer, and a damn good one at that. Word of his skill spread and soon he had enough clients to warrant him moving out into his own flat.  
He had to admit, the money was nice, but doing what he loved for a living was even nicer. He had the wiggle room in his bank account for luxuries like the Saint Laurent boots he collected religiously, and pretty much anything else his heart could desire. Which, honestly, wasn't much.

Harry likes to think he is quite simple. He has one pair of jeans he wears almost everyday. His flat is sparsely decorated with a few pieces of art and some white couches to match the white walls. He likes tea, has to have a cuppa before bed or he can’t get sleep. It has to be herbal, though. 

But his favourite activity was quite simple too, his mates loved to make fun of him for it.

Harry would go to the museum and stare at the paintings for however long he could. This usually meant he was there until they closed down for the night. 

He likes to look at the careful lines, and the brushstrokes. It’s very calming, and he just loves it.

An added bonus is that he gets to glimpse the cute tour guide. Louis is his name. He had overheard it once, in passing from whom he thinks must be the manager, as he was yelling at Louis for forgetting to lock up the information stand the night before.

Usually when Harry is in the museum though, Louis is otherwise occupied with guests and their questions, or giving tours. He is always too distracted to notice Harry staring at him across the lobby.

Sometimes Harry will stand in the art section waiting, hoping that Louis will come through with his group of tourists. But he never does.

He tries not to dwell too much on the fact that Louis probably wouldn't even be interested anyways, since he hasn't ever acknowledged his existence.

So when Harry sees him in the university café he sometimes visits (they have the best blueberry herbal tea) he doesn't hesitate to flash a smile or two his way before leaving with his steaming cuppa. 

Harry swears he sees the boy falter momentarily, be he probably just imagined it.

**

It’s only two days later that Harry decides it time to go look at some art. The only logical place to look would be the museum. He swears its not just so he can see Louis again, no. That would just be strange.

So if he double checks his hair before walking out of his flat, it’s because he hates it when even a single strand is out of place, not because he want to look nice just in case Louis is working.

The walk to the museum isn't far from his flat, so he doesn't bother getting a cab. Though he does contemplate it as it’s a bit chilly out.

With his hands stuffed into his coat pockets Harry makes his way down the sidewalks, always careful not to bump into anyone. Last time he did, he ended up being hit with a middle aged woman's purse. Not a pleasant experience.

It’s a relief when he reaches the large brick building. His coat, however expensive and pretty it may be, was meant more for looks that warmth. His hands are cold when he has to take one out to open the large glass door.

He rubs them together while walking slowly towards the art section. Slowly, because he is glancing around the lobby in search of a small figure with soft looking hair and the bluest eyes he has ever seen.

He spots Louis in his same old desk, slouched over what looks like a textbook. Is he a student? 

Louis looks up, eyes widened slightly and Harry quickly looks away. He isn't blushing profusely, he really isn’t. But if if he is, it’s warranted because he was just caught staring.

When he looks back up, Louis is scratching his arm and staring back at his book.

Harry reaches the art section eventually, an he begins to think about how he doesn't really know the history behind these paintings (except he does), and about how this is probably and area where a tour guide could help.

Harry decides that maybe it would be a good idea to learn about the paintings and get a tour, so that when he comes here again in the future he will be able to look at them with some context. Not because he was looking for any reason to go talk to Louis.

It takes Harry some time to pluck up the courage just to walk out of the art section and back into the lobby.

Suddenly the marble floors are very interesting as Harry stares at them, stalling himself.

He’s nervous. He’s never even met the boy and he is nervous to speak to him. He is definitely crazy for thinking this could ever have been a good idea. So Harry walks back into the art gallery. 

If he had turned around right at that moment, he may have noticed Louis watching him with careful eyes, and standing up to walk towards him.

C’mon, Harry thinks to himself. I can do this, I can. I am going to do this.

Before he can think twice he is making his way back out of the art gallery and crashing into a short figure.

“Oops,” Harry says sheepishly, before looking up to see just who it was that he crashed into.

“Hi,” the boys says.

Harry just stares, at Louis. Louis who has just said Hi to him, and Louis who he hasn’t yet responded to after a good fifteen seconds.

“Sorry, Hi.” he breathes. His eyes are even more blue up close. 

They look like the sky, but better, Harry thinks.

Louis is clearly just as flustered as he is, frantically brushing non existent dust off of himself .

Louis laughs, “You alright then?”

“I’m great. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine now”, Louis looks up to him and smiles.

Harry isn't sure what to say at this point so he speaks the first thing that comes to his mind.

“You've got beautiful eyes.”

Shit. Harry cringes inwardly. Probably not the best thing to say to the boy you've fancied for months and have never spoken to before.

A slow blush creeps up louis neck.

“Um, thank you. Yours are quite nice too.” Louis winks.

Harry can feel himself blushing, he needs to change the topic of conversation before he embarrasses himself further.

“Can I have a tour of the gallery?” Harry blurts, “That’s actually what I came out her for, to ask for one.”

Louis nods enthusiastically. 

“Right this way, I never get to do gallery tours, this will be nice” Louis leads him back into the art section for the third time today.

**

The tour was very informative. At least Harry thinks it was. He spent most of the time focussing really hard on not staring at Louis. It was quite hard, if he’s to be honest. Louis is the most captivating boy he has ever met.

His entire demeanour, from the way he walks and speaks just makes Harry want to be in his presence always. 

And Louis obviously has a passion for art, or maybe just this particular painting, he doesn't now. But when they go to the furthest painting in the room to start, tucked all the way into a corner, one Harry had actually never noticed hanging on the wall before, Louis spoke without pausing for breathe. 

It was called The Sirens. Once Harry managed to tear his eyes away from Louis for a moment, he notices just how truly beautiful the painting is. 

Louis must have noticed him staring intently at it, because he stopped talking for a moment.

“Quite mermaid like, aren't they?” He says, pushing his shirt sleeve up to reveal the black and white ink mermaid etched into his skin.

After that Louis seems like he doesn't know what to say, so as they tour around looking at all the different paintings Harry begins to spout all his knowledge about that particular painter, and or says silly little poetic things that make Louis giggle a bit, even though he tries not to because Harry turns bright red and gets embarrassed every time he does.

Harry would just bite his lip and glance down into Louis eyes, then continue on. 

When they near the end of the tour Louis speaks up, “If you don’t mind my asking, if you already knew about all the paintings, why did you need a tour?” Louis bites his lip almost nervously.

He had been silently hoping Louis wouldn't ask this particular question, once he started spewing all these facts out. 

Harry ends up just saying, “It’s nice to have company. I don't really have any, like, mates who like this kind of thing, so it’s just nice to have someone to talk to while I'm here. I guess.” Harry shrugs a shoulder, trying not to look at the little grin spreading across Louis face.

“Alright, then. Well, I best get back to my duties. It was nice to meet you- er-” Louis looks to him.

“Oh, it’s Harry,” he reaches out a hand to shake louis remarkably smaller one, “and you’re?” He pretends not to know.

“Louis,” He says, eyes crinkling into a sweet smile harry hopes he will see again.

“Right, Louis, well I will see you again, I hope,” and with that he gives a small wave goodbye and fully plans on returning tomorrow.

*L*

Once Harry has left and Louis returned to his so called duties, Louis decides he is an absolute idiot. Duties? He has no duties. What if Harry wanted to stay and talk some more? 

He literally said he has no mates who like art. Was that an invitation for Louis to stay? He isn't particularly interested in art, but for Harry he could be.

 

**

That night when he’s burning his dinner he begins to wonder if Harry will come back again. He seems to quite like the art they have, so why wouldn't he? Hopefully he will.

“Lou,” Liam shouts, making Him jump, “Just leave the cooking to me next time so you don't burn down the flat.”

Liam's taking the pot of noodles off the stove and over to the sink when louis decides to ask him a question.

“Did you see the boy that came in today? The curly haired one?”

“Yeah, Harry right? I’ve seen him around a few times, comes in quite often actually. We got to chatting one day, found out he’s a high profile art buyer.” 

Louis sputters for a moment, “He comes in often, then?” is the only thing that he can think to ask. The only thing that matters, really. Because how did he not notice the boy earlier?

Liam just gives him a knowing look. 

“You quite fancy him, then? Never seen you quite this worked up over a bloke before.”

He’s red. He can feel the blush creeping over his cheeks, all the way to the tips of his ears. Ears which are fortunately covered by his long fringe.

“No. Maybe. Okay, yes.” He doesn't elaborate more than that, just adjusts his black framed glasses and walks to his bedroom. He doesn't need Liams little looks or logic right now. He just needs to figure out what to do the next time Harry comes round the museum.

Louis is probably being irrational. Harry might not even like him. He might not even like boys for that matter. 

Louis only 18. What if Harry is older and doesn't want someone as young as he is? He is definitely older though. He has a career, what university student has that? So Louis decides he must be in his early twenties at least. 

So many more thoughts run through his mind before Liam barges into his room.

“Gogglebox is on, join me on the couch?” 

“Fine.”

Louis rids Harry and his eyes of his mind right then, he can’t stress out about boys right now. Not when gogglebox is on.

So he spends the evening with Liam and his tv.

 

**

It’s morning, the sun has risen and Louis is fixing his fringe in the mirror in preparation for his work day. Louis sighs, looking at his slim figure clad in a white t-shirt and braces. This is as good as it’s getting today.

So it’s when the museum has been open for an hour and Harry walks in looking beautiful that Louis wishes he had tried a bit harder that day.

“Hello again” Harry grins, leaning on louis desk.

“Hi there. Need another tour, or were you just going to spout a history textbook at me again today?” He tries to be funny, but he's nervous and it might sound rude.

Luckily Harry giggles, (Louis decides its one of the nicest things he has ever heard) and fiddles with one of many rings on his fingers.

“Actually, I was hoping you could show me around the other areas of the museum today. I’m looking to broaden my horizons.” 

Now that he knows harry frequents the museum, he also knows Harry definitely doesn't need a tour. He hopes it’s some sort of ploy just so he can talk to Louis for a while.

“Of course. Right this way,” Louis waves a hand towards the marble archway of the Statue exhibit.

They don't end up actually talking about the displays, though. 

Harry, out of no where asked louis, “So what is it you do for a living?”

“You’re looking at it,” he gestures to the room surrounding them, “I work here part time to pay rent and help with uni. I'm in my first year, Drama studies.” 

Harry nods, like he understands. 

“I buy art for rich people.” He says bluntly.

Louis pretends like he doesn't know this already and says, ‘Must be nice. getting paid to look at art. Can’t imagine the moneys too bad either.”

He eyes Harrys expensive shoes and almost laughs. Today they are these ridiculous gold sparkly things. He loves them.

Harry gives a little nod of agreement before continuing on looking at the display. The tour lasts another hour before harry gets a call from whom louis assumes is a client of his.

“I have to go, client needs me to run and pick up some painting he apparently has to have right at this moment.” He says it with a sorry look in his eyes.

Louis tries not to sound upset when he replies. He is though.

“Oh, alright then. Come back anytime. You didn't get to see the dinosaur bones yet,” He gives harry a little wink, long eyelashes fluttering.

Louis heart might flutter a little too, when Harry nods eagerly. His curls bounce all over the place before he runs a large hand through them.

“I promise I will, but I've got to run now.” 

Then Harry hugs him. Like really hugs him. It’s so out of nowhere that Louis doesn't even have time to wrap his arms around Harry in return before he’s pulling away, and running out of the museum, stumbling a little bit over his large feet, and it’s all very endearing.

That may have been the best hug Louis has ever received. 

 

*H*

He hugged him. Why did he hug him? Was that too forward? It probably was. 

_Oh god, he’s probably thinking I'm some creep now. ___

It was going so well, too. They were talking, not about he art as Louis had probably planned on, but about themselves. Harry felt like he might actually be getting somewhere with this boy, but then he just had to go and sod it all up by fucking bear hugging him.

He doesn't regret it though. Harry didn't realize quite how small Louis was in comparison to him until that moment. He's just so small and dainty. It was a very enlightening hug.

His hand would probably fit into Harrys so perfectly.

He stops himself right there. If he keeps downing down this path of fondness, he’ll soon be imagining their spooning sessions soon enough. (I’d be the little spoon, Harry thinks. Yeah, definitely the little spoon.) He is quite fond of the thought.

 

He can still feel Louis body pressed against his when he goes to bed that night.


	3. Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if you find any mistakes and ill fix them :)

*L*

It’s a Tuesday. 

A wonderful, brilliant and stunning Tuesday. Louis started work at the same time as every other day, eight-thirty am. But on this particular morning he was met with a fedora clad Harry, sat waiting on the front steps of the museum. It was a happy surprise, to say the least.

“I told you I’d come back.” Harry says, grinning ear to ear. But the he looks flustered and quickly follows up with “For the bones, the dinosaur bones.”

Louis knows what he means but cant help but feel a little bit disappointed. 

He forces out a small laugh before saying “Of course.” 

Louis walks around Harry to unlock the doors. He sees a tattooed hand reach around to pull the door open.

He meets Harrys eyes for a brief moment before walking through the door.  
He gets butterflies in his stomach when he is around Harry. Can’t even help it. Louis quite likes the feeling, though. Its kind of like free falling, but instead of falling from the sky or off of a skyscraper, he's free falling into love. He can just feel it.

*H*

The day is spent with Harry spouting random little facts about everything the see in the museum. 

“I have a lot of useless knowledge,” Harry says when Louis looks at him.

It’s embarrassing. He will say something completely random, but Louis will just look at him, half a smile on his face and eyes crinkled in the corners. 

If anyone else were to see this look they would categorize it as Fond.

But Louis doesn't complain, not even when Harry starts to recite poems to him when he sees something that reminds him of a poem he just read. 

But even Louis’ apparent fondness for his random facts and poetry doesn't stop him from acting embarrassed and blushing like a three year old. So he just bites his pink lip and carries on reciting. 

*L* 

These little tours become more and more frequent until they both know each others life stories and share boxes of indian food on the benches outside the museum while Louis is on his lunch break. 

The fact that Louis is eighteen doesn't seem to bother Harry in the slightest. Louis learned eventually that Harry is in his twenties as he thought. Twenty-one to be exact.

Harry has become so engrained in his everyday life that Louis can’t walk past a painting without thinking of some stupid poem Harry recited to him in front of it. He can’t look at the ceiling of the museum and see the little cherubs without being reminded of a picture Harry had once shown Louis of himself at age sixteen. Chubby cheeks and tight curls.

The marble statues just remind him of Harrys beauty and his god like features, or the vastness of his knowledge.

As Liam would put it, Louis is gone for Harry. He doesn't even bother denying it anymore because it is the truth.

And so the hugs become more frequent when they say goodbye. Little brushes of the hands aren't so accidental, and if they bump into each other, neither of them is complaining. 

**

So when December rolls around, Louis decides its probably safe to make a move. He just has to wait for Harry to come meet him at the university café. 

Harry’s late. The one time he actually needs to speak to Harry, and he's practically dying of nerves, he's late.  
Louis bounces his knee under the small bistro table, his hands might be shaking a bit too. Harry finally walks in twenty minutes late with apology written all over his face. Louis has already forgiven him though.

“Hey, Lou. Sorry for being so late, meeting ran a bit long and my phone died.” He sighs, sitting across from Louis.

Usually Harry’s work doesn't get in the way, so he can't be mad.

Louis just says “It’s fine, Harold. Can’t stay mad at you for long can I now?” he smile, his stomach fluttering.

Harry grabs his hand. Louis nearly pukes. The nerves are real at this point.

“Really Lou, I'm sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

Harry doesn't let go of his hand. So it’s now or never, Louis guesses.

“Harry.” He says.

“Louis.” Harry laughs, but theres a lingering question in there somewhere.

“Please don't laugh, I really need to ask you something and I've been putting this off for way too long.” Here goes nothing.

Harrys face gets serious and his grip on Louis’ admittedly smaller hand tightens. 

“It’s my birthday. On Christmas eve. I’d really like it if you came home with me to donny to meet my family. Only if you want to though. I mean I'm sure you have plans with your family and what not so, oh god never mind of course you have plans-”

“Louis, I would love to meet your family.” Harrys smiling at him, brilliant white teeth flashing in an unfairly beautiful way.

Louis honestly can’t believe the words he just spoke. He wants to come home with him. Harry, who he is completely in love with, wants to meet his family. Louis has never been more happy than he is in this moment.

“Really?” he squeaks out, barely audible over the noise of the café.

“Really. You’re special to me, you know that. Meeting your family would be an honour, Lou. And I will go with you. On one condition.”

“Of course, anything.” he says. And he means it. At this point in their relationship (Is it a relationship?) Louis truly would do anything for Harry. 

“Have dinner with me. Tonight.” 

*H*

He has been waiting so long for this moment, the right moment to ask Louis out. Properly, not like one of their little picnic lunches at the museum. But on a proper date.

Louis looks surprised, but he knows him well enough by now that he can pick out the happiness in his eyes. They get all crinkly when he's happy, like right now.

“Yes, yeah. Okay.” he says, all at once.

“Perfect. I’ll pick you up at 8.”

Harry stands up to leave. He has plans to make.

But then he remembers that the only thing he doesn't know about Louis is his address. Or telephone number, or last name for that matter.

(They were both too shy to ask for it, for fear of coming on too strongly, so it became something neither of them ever attempted to ask about. It’s a wonder how they got this far without the information though)

“Um, can I have your phone number then?” he asks quietly.

Louis just laughs and holds out his hand, Harry almost thinks he's asking for a handshake before he realizes he wants his phone. He hands it to him

He watches as Louis types, keyboard clicks echoing between them before Louis hands it back.

On the top of the screen is his name _Louis Tomlinson_ signed with two x’s and a painting emoji. Harry laughs before sending a text to Louis so he cant have his number as well.

_This is Harry Styles here.x_

Louis takes his phone out of too his tight pants. 

(Harry likes how tight they are actually, makes his bum look nice. Not that he’s looking.) 

“Styles? Seriously?” 

“Hey now, I quite like it.” 

“I like it too. I just wasn't expecting something that suited you so well. With your fancy thousand pound gold boots and all that.” 

Harry humours Louis's attempt at a joke with a slight giggle. 

“Tomlinson is no better, really.” 

He says it even though he quite likes Louis’s surname. Its got a nice ring to it. _Louis Tomlinson._

Harry can’t help it when he thinks _Harry Tomlinson _has a nice ring to it too.__

___*L*_ _ _

___Getting reading for his date, if that’s what it is, with Harry is disastrous, because its in this moment that he realized he wears the same thing every day and doesn't actually own anything date worthy._ _ _

___This leads to him rooting around in Liams closet until he finds a nice burgundy button up, and decides that will have to do. He throws on some black jeans rolled at the ankles, and his brown braces too._ _ _

___Louis ponders whether he should do something different with his hair or just leave it down in a fringe when his phone beeps._ _ _

___Harry texted._ _ _

_Leaving now, be there soon.x_

____He doesn't answer, just stares at the screen for a few minutes._ _ _ _

____Louis is nervous. He has never been this nervous about a date before. He thinks it could have something to do with the fact that he has never been kissed before. (A subject he managed to avoid in many conversations with Harry) Not by a boy anyways, so the brief peck he shared with a girl in year ten doesn't count. He wasn't exactly ‘out of the closet’ in school._ _ _ _

____He doesn't know what to expect from tonight, or if he even has to worry bout the fact that he is so inexperienced with kissing. Or other _things ___for that matter. Louis is an eighteen year old virgin whose never been kissed, but he isn't embarrassed. He always believed it would happen with who it was meant to happen with, when it was meant to. If Harry is the right person, everything will be fine. Even if it is awkward and bumbling._ _ _ _

_____Harry wouldn't expect him to, like, put out though, would he? He doesn't think Harry is the type so he decides not to dwell further on the subject._ _ _ _ _

_____Louis might think about how he might want _be ___with harry , but its brief, so as to avoid any unwelcome surprises._ _ _ _ _

______Louis just doesn't know. He doesn't have time to think about it, which is probably a good thing, because there is a knock at his door._ _ _ _ _ _

______Harry._ _ _ _ _ _

______Louis runs his hands over his shirt, getting rid of any lint that may have caught on, and walks over to the door._ _ _ _ _ _

______When he pulls it open he's met with Harry and a single white rose._ _ _ _ _ _

______“For you,” Harry says, leaning in for a quick kiss on the cheek._ _ _ _ _ _

______His lips make contact with his cheek and Louis swears he is on fire. Every nerve ending in his body is suddenly aware of Harrys closeness and it feels nice. Harrys lips are soft and gentle, and they're gone too soon._ _ _ _ _ _

______Fuck. If Louis feels like this from a kiss on the cheek, he can only imagine what the real thing must be like. He hopes he gets to find out._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Thank you,” He takes the rose and places it on the little table by his door._ _ _ _ _ _

______He takes a moment to admire Harry. He is dressed in a black shirt, unbuttoned so far down that it shows off a butterfly tattoo on his stomach he didn't know harry had, and several other tattoos he had only ever glimpsed at under the occasional V neck t-shirts he would wear._ _ _ _ _ _

______He likes it._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Shall we go?” Harry says, offering his muscular arm. Louis loops his own through it and locks the door behind them, pocketing the key._ _ _ _ _ _

______“So, Harold, were are we going on this ever so fine evening?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“It’s a surprise.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“You know I hate surprises. Please don't do this to me. Please.” he pleads. He truly does hate surprises. Unless he is the one doing the surprising, in which case they're fine._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Sorry Lou. You're just going to have to wait.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Louis pouts but doesn't complain anymore._ _ _ _ _ _

______The walk is quiet, but not awkwardly so. They're comfortable enough with each other that they don't need to talk. It’s nice. He still doesn't know where they're going._ _ _ _ _ _

______Of course, though, the silence leaves room for Louis to think. And he's thinking about whether or not he should ask if this is a date. Not a friends date, but like, a proper romantic date that could lead to a proper romantic relationship. He decides he should probably just get it over with as sonar possible._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Can I ask you something?” Louis asks, breaking the silence._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Go for it.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Is this a date? I mean, like a real date.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Harry stops walking and turns to face Louis._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Do you want it to be?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______He does._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Well, yeah. Do you?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“More than anything.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Okay.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Its settled then. Our first official date.” Harry says happily, and starts walking again. This time Harry doesn't offer his arm. He offers his hand._ _ _ _ _ _

______Louis holds it from behind, because Harrys is so much bigger than his. Its comfortable. It’s like his hand was made just for Louis to hold._ _ _ _ _ _

______They walk a little longer before the area starts to look familiar. He doesn't come down here often by foot, he usually takes the train, so it takes a while for Louis to clue in._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Are we going to the museum?” He wonders aloud._ _ _ _ _ _

______Harry doesn't answer, he just leads him towards the building that is indeed the museum._ _ _ _ _ _

______When they're standing in the lobby Harry finally speaks._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I thought that if this were to be a proper date, it would be kind of romantic to have where we first met.” He shrugs, like he didn't really think much of it._ _ _ _ _ _

______Louis knows he did though. He can tell by the way Harry is holding himself that he wants Louis’s approval._ _ _ _ _ _

______“It’s perfect.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Harry takes hold of his hand again and leads him toward the gallery._ _ _ _ _ _

______Theres a small table and two chairs set up in the middle. Its candle lit and Louis wonders how me managed to pul this off. He had to have asked Liam. He makes a mental note to kill Liam for not telling him later._ _ _ _ _ _

______“This is amazing harry. Probably the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me. Thank you.” He says it in the most sincere tone he can muster. He means every word he says._ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _ _ _

______They eat Chicken, stuffed with mozzarella cheese, wrapped with Parma ham, with some homemade mashed potatoes. Harry had mentioned he liked to cook before, but this has by far surpassed Louis’ expectations._ _ _ _ _ _

______After a while they decide to look at the art._ _ _ _ _ _

______They start with Louis favourite, The Sirens._ _ _ _ _ _

______He feels a hand latch onto his own, and Harry pulls him closer until there is no space between the sides of their bodies. They stand there for another minute before Harry is turning to face Louis, reaching towards his face so gently and Louis barely has time to think _This is it ___before Harrys lips are pressed against his own._ _ _ _ _ _

_______Louis can’t formulate a single thought in that moment. He is overwhelmed by the softness and strength of Harrys mouth moving against his, and how warm his lips are._ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______Louis taken by suprisw, but he just goes with it, not sure what else to do._ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______Their lips move fluidly against each other, almost mirroring, for another long moment before Louis is pulling away for breath._ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______“Can I just say something?” Harry says._ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______“Yeah” Louis breathes._ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______“I have wanted to do that since I first saw you all months ago. You looked so beautiful, even just sitting there. I didn't think you would ever notice me, but here we are,” he laughs._ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______And Louis doesn't know what to say. Because those months he spent pining, Harry was pining too. It makes him unreasonably happy. It makes him wonder how he didn't notice Harry around the museum earlier._ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______“That was my first kiss,” He blushes profusely, but smiles._ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______Harry looks surprised. Couldn't have been too terrible then, Louis supposes._ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______“Well, it was my pleasure then,” a green eye winks at him._ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______It isn't long before lips are pressed back against lips and Louis is pressing himself against Harry, unable to get close enough._ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______It seems Harry feels the same way, so when Harry asks if he wants to see his flat, Louis doesn't say no._ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______*H*_ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______They walk at a steady pace to his flat. They might kiss a little in the lift, but thats to be expected, really._ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______Harry wasn't expecting to have anyone over tonight so its a proper mess. Poetry books are scattered across the floor. He has accumulated more paintings since he met Louis, they're all blue in hue._ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______“Well, this is home. Sorry for the mess.” He says while straightening up the cushions on the white couch, and putting books into small piles._ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______Louis looking around, taking it all in._ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______“Its really nice,” He says, lips pursed. He looks perplexed._ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______Harry walks towards him._ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______“Is anything the matter, love?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______“No, no. Its just, I've never really, done this before…”_ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______And, _Oh. _____ _ _ _ _ _

________“Look, you don't have to do anything you don't want to, I mean it, Lou. I want to do this right with you. I wont do anything you tell me not to, okay”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“But that’s the thing. I want to.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________And then Louis is pressing his mouth against his and it’s beautiful. He had waited months to kiss Louis, and if that is all he ended up wanting to do, Harry would be perfectly fine with that._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________But soon Louis is playing with the hem of Harrys shirt, tugging at the hem. Harry lifts his arms and soon there is no shirt to be played with, it’s thrown to the floor in a black heap._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Louis button up is next to come off. His stomach is so smooth and just overall just really nice to look at. His curves are even better to feel._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Harry grabs a handful of Louis’s bum in his large palm, and Louis laughs against Harrys mouth._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Soon enough Harry is leading them down the unlit hallway to his bedroom, and slamming the door shut with a socked foot._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________It’s when Harrys lips are exploring every inch of the other boy that he swears Louis’s body is the only canvas he could ever care to look at for the rest of his life._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________*L*_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________It’s the early next morning, before sunrise, when Louis wakes in a bed not his own, that he learns Harry likes to be the little spoon. If someone were to walk in at this moment, it would all look quite humorous. Louis’ small body is wrapped around Harrys, hair a mess from the previous nights activities. But he wouldn't change a thing._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________As he lays in the dirty sheets, he wonders what this will mean for their relationship. Are they boyfriends? He hopes so._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________If Louis is being honest, he has already imagined being Harrys boyfriend. Hell, he has imagined being Harrys husband, even though that may never happen, and if it does, it would be a long time away. He has, however, decided that if they were to marry, he would probably be the one doing the proposing. That’s if Harry doesn't beat him to it. He has always liked the idea of sharing his last name with someone._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________So as he dozes back to sleep, surrounded by Harrys warmth, thoughts of _Harry Tomlinson_ run through his mind before they drift away into the darkness._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not really on a posting schedule, but you can probably expect another two or three chapters before the story comes to a close. :)


	4. Four

Chapter four

*H*

The morning is nice. Waking up wrapped in Louis’s arms is something he could definitely get used to. The way the light filters through the blinds right at this moment illuminates Louis’ skin, and he looks like he’s glowing. It’s beautiful in so many indescribable ways. Harry almost wants to take a photo.

The moment doesn’t last long enough for his liking. 

Louis’ voice is soon gurgling with waking up noises, it’s cute, and when he finally speaks it comes out low and gruff. The sound of Louis morning voice is something he never wants to forget. 

“Good morning” he smiles, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

He could definitely get used to this.

“Morning, love.” 

“So, last night…” Louis speaks shyly, voice clearly hesitant to continue, so harry finishes the sentence for him.

“Was amazing.” 

The blush is evident on both of their faces. 

“Shall we have some breakfast then? I'm famished.” Harry winks a gorgeous green eye at Louis before reluctantly climbing out of bed. He really is hungry. Other wise, though, they would be better off together in this bed.

He is still nude from the night before, so he grabs some pyjama bottoms that are strewn on the floor, and finds a clean pair in his dresser for Louis.

He turns around to find Louis propped up on one arm smirking at the sight of his bare bottom. He throws the pants over Louis’s face.

 

The kitchen tiles are cold on his bare feet as he turns on the stove.

“Eggs and toast okay with you?” he asks Louis who is just now padding into the room.

He looks even better now, all soft curves and messy hair. He remembers running his fingers through that hair and thinking _it really is as soft as it looks._

“Yeah.” 

“Ketchup on your eggs?” he asks, but already knows the answer. Louis loves ketchup, eats it with everything he can.

“Of course, you should know this by now, Harry.” 

He loves the way Louis says his name. It always comes out sounding like _Harreh._

So when the toast is toasted and the eggs are scrambled, Harry has an idea. 

He gets the ketchup bottle from the fridge, and writes with it on Louis’ plate before walking to where Louis is sat at the kitchen table. 

Louis looks at his plate for a quick moment, his face has a confused look on it. He turns the plate around to read the loopy ketchup writing properly.

Harry stands nervously with his own plate in hand, a thousand thoughts running through his head all at once.

Will he say yes? Is it too soon? It can’t be too soon, he thinks, they made love last night. It must be an acceptable time to ask, maybe even expected.

And so when Louis looks him in the eye after reading Boyfriends? spelled out on his plate in ketchup, he smiles. It’s not his regular smile though, it’s better. His eyes are extra crinkled, cheeks extra wide, showing teeth. 

“I thought you would never ask.” 

It isn't long before their mouths are together, moving softly. 

 

*L*

When he goes home later that night, lips tingling and swollen, he is happy. 

This boy, this perfect boy, whom Louis is so infatuated with, has decided that he wants to be with him. With Louis, of everyone in the world, he has chosen Louis. And Louis has chosen him.

So when the time comes on December twenty third for himself and Harry to board the train to Doncaster, there isn't a doubt in his mind that his family will love him. 

Harry picks him up from Louis’ shared flat at three o’clock in the afternoon, and Louis bids his farewells to Liam. 

“Keep the fort down while I'm gone, okay? And you two stay out of my room.” He points his finger towards where Liam and Sophia are standing.

Liam looks appalled when Louis finally closes the door behind him.

“Ready?” Harry asks, holding his hand out waiting for Louis to grab it.

He nods and picks up his duffle bag. 

“Lets go, it’s going to be impossible to catch a cab if we don't hurry, ’tis the season.”

**

The train ride is peaceful. Harry fell asleep twenty minutes into the two hour ride, head resting gently on Louis’s shoulder, his hand lax an intertwined with Louis’s own

 

Kings cross station had been a nightmare. This is one of the busier seasons, with all the Harry Potter fans off school for the holidays and tourists crowding the platforms. It’s a huge pain for the locals who just want to get where they're going. 

But he had Harry and his sturdy body to make a path through the crowds for him, so it wasn't all that bad.

An hour and half later when it’s time to get off the train he has to gently nudge Harry awake so he can get their bags out of the overhead storage compartment. 

Louis was going to be nice and let him sleep a moment longer, but he soon learnt he was too short to reach the cupboard.

_I’m five feet nine, who are these cupboards made for? Giants?_

So when Harry wakes, he just laughs his lovely laugh.

 

Its cold outside the train station, but they aren't left waiting for long, because at that moment Louis’s mum drives up to a parking space.

The older two of his sisters run up to him nothing yelling “Louis!”

They hug his so tightly that he actually has to tell them to loosen up.

“I’ve missed you guys,” he says, voiced muffled.

“We’ve missed you too.”

It’s when he hears a subtle little cough that he remembers Harry has yet to be introduced. He pulls out of the hug, and grabs Harry’s warm hand.

“Mum, Fiz, Lottie. This is my boyfriend Harry.”

He waits for their reactions, and isn't disappointed.

“Boyfriend? Why hadn't you told us sooner, Lou! We knew you were bringing Harry, but we didn't know he was a _boyfriend_! It is so lovely to meet you, Harry.” His mum says, and hugs Harry.

Harry seems overwhelmed, so Louis says “Alright then mum, that’s enough for now.”

His sisters just give him little knowing looks, and he sticks his tongue out at them when Harry takes his hand.

**

The drive to his childhood home is quick, not even fifteen minutes from the train station. Its filled with his mum peppering Harry with too many questions, and Harry answering them all easily.

Harry just gives him little smiles in the rear view mirror, because his mum had made him sit in the passenger seat so that they could _‘have a proper chat’._

Louis is content, sat in a car with some of his favourite people in the whole entire world.

He didn't realize how much he missed the happy sounds of his home until he was back.

*H*

Today is Louis’s birthday. It’s also christmas eve, but that just isn't as important as his boyfriends nineteenth birthday. 

Harry had been planning his gift since he found out his birthdate, and he is almost positive Louis will love it. He just has to find the right moment to give it to him.

 

It’s early in the morning, Louis and Harry are both squished onto Louis’ childhood single bed. Its comfortable though. He would never be able to get close enough to Louis anyway. 

Technically, he shouldn't even be in Louis’s bedroom right now, as his mum had given him a stern look and showed him to the guest room the night before. Louis had just shrugged and mouth _Later ___.But rules are for people who care, and right now, Harry only cared about cuddling with Louis until he had to sneak back into his own bedroom before they got caught.

**  
They eat breakfast with the whole family, and Harry never quite realized that when Louis said he had a lot of siblings, he meant it. 

And so the morning is loud, filled with cheery chatter and questions mostly aimed toward Harry. The whole family had basically been interrogating him since they'd arrived last night. 

He guesses they're just protective of Louis. The thought makes him Happy. 

He always used to wish he had more siblings, but he only has the one, Gemma, his older sister. They're quite close. He thinks that Louis should meet her soon, and his mum and Robin too. Maybe even his dad, if the relationship gets serious enough. He hopes it does. 

But sitting here with Louis, holding hands under the table, he decides that this is his future. 

Children, so many children all running about, and Louis by his side, holding his hand always. 

**  
The night had been busy, all of Lou’s family came around for cake and a visit, some exchanged Christmas gifts if they knew they wouldn't see each other then next day. Louis had received some nice knit jumpers that Harry will be stealing in the very near future. 

So Harry gives Louis his gift that night when they're laying alone in the privacy his bedroom, away from the prying eyes of four young girls looking for something to tease their brother about. 

He digs the envelope out of his deep leather duffle, and hands it to Louis. 

“Harry, you really didn't have to. . .” He trails off, opening the envelope. 

“I wanted to.” 

Louis’s mouth opens, forming a little ‘ _oh_ ’ on his lips as he reads the tickets that have fallen out of the card onto his lap. 

“Paris? Are we going to Paris? Harry, ohmygod,” he says excitedly, bringing his face to Harry’s and pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. 

When they break apart Harry says, “I thought we could go to some art museums, maybe visit the Van Gogh's.” He shrugs, but can’t keep the smile off of his face as Louis hugs him tightly. 

“Thank you Harry, it’s going to be amazing.” 

_Harry couldn't agree more._

_*L*_

It’s christmas morning and he is shaking Harry awake, straddling his hips. 

“Wake up, Harry. It’s Christmas, everyone’s waiting for us downstairs.” He whispers into his ear, kissing his face softly. 

Harry groans, but gently pushes Louis off of him anyway, and puts on one of the knit jumpers Louis had received from an Uncle. It’s lilac, and it looks better on Harry than it ever could on himself, Louis thinks. 

They walk downstairs to a small crowd of kids, all waiting to open their gifts. 

They're only stopped from ripping into the colourful christmas wrapping paper by the sound of his mums stern voice saying, “Only one person at a time, starting with the eldest.” 

He thinks his mum is referring to himself, being the eldest of the kids, but she hands a small box to Harry first. 

“You’re part of the family now, love” and pecks his cheek. 

“Thank you,” Harry says, and it’s all incredibly endearing watching him tear into the gift wrap to find a tea mug with his first initial on it. He thanks his mum, before settling back into the couch beside Lou. 

Louis smiles at the surprise on Harry’s face when he hands him another box. 

“You didn't have to get me anything Lou,” he says. 

“Yeah, yeah. Pretend to be surprised later. Hurry it up.” One of the girls says, earning a glare from Louis, and their mum too. 

Louis watches with his ‘fonding over Harry’ look on his face as Harry carefully peels the paper off the box. 

It's a lock Louis had his mum run out to but early this morning for him. 

When Harry looks up, Louis says quietly, “I thought maybe we could get it engraved when we go to Paris, and put it on the lock bridge.” 

Not even a month into their relationship and Louis already feels a sort of forever with Harry. It’s a little flutter in his stomach that tells him there _will_ be a forever with him that he thought justified their putting a lock on the bridge. 

Harry presses a chaste kiss to his temple, “It’s perfect” 

Louis thinks he hears a little ‘ _aw_ ’ come from where his mum is sitting, but decides to ignore in favour of savouring Harry’s kiss. 

_*H*_

The next few days fly by too fast, a flurry of late night tea and games of scrabble, until it’s January first and they're on a train home. 

The goodbyes had been tearful, with whispered promises of visits to come. Jo, as Harry had been told to call her, even said they would come to London to visit them soon. Louis had to promise to call more often before Jo would let go of him. 

Harry had received many hugs from Louis’s various siblings who had all grown rather fond of him in the days past. Harry could admit he had become fond of them too. It was hard not to. 

The whole family comes into the train station with them, and wave as their train car begins to move down the tracks. 

“Your family is so sweet,” Harry muses, playing with a stray piece of Louis’s fringe, gently putting it back in its place.

But Louis is snoring softly, head rolling to the side and onto Harry’s shoulder. 

He looks so beautiful, and because he’s asleep and can't hear, Harry doesn't think twice before whispering a soft “ _I think I love you_ ” before resting his own head atop Louis’s and falling asleep too. 

_He can feel himself falling in love with this boy, and he likes the feeling a lot._

_*L*_

It’s three weeks later, January twenty-first. They’re back at Harry’s flat, bags set by the front door ready to go for their early train to Paris in the morning. 

His flat has changed since Louis had last been there. It’s homier, not so sterile as it had been. The white couches are now decorated with various shades of blue cushions, and there’s moss green blankets strewn over the arm chairs. There might even be rug under the couch as Louis suggested, because his feet kept getting cold on the hardwood floor. 

And if Louis notices his favourite foods suddenly appearing in the cabinets, days after he told Harry what they were, he doesn't say anything about how they're all located in the lowest cupboards, just within his reach. 

_**_

Louis is excited, he's never been to Paris before. He hopes it goes as planned, if not, it would be a waste of the hour it took to get Liam to give him the twenty days off, especially right after his holidays for christmas. In the end Liam took pity, claiming he'd want time off to go to Paris with Sophia, so he gets it. At least school is let out for the holidays, no convincing professors to email assignments to him. 

That’s not why he is excited though. He gets to go on his first proper vacation, with his first proper boyfriend, and he gets Harry all to himself for a week and thirteen days. 

They'll get to celebrate Harry’s birthday in the City of Love soon, on the first of February. He will turn twenty-two. Louis feels young sometimes when he has to do his coursework and Harry is sat on the couch watching him with a small smile on his face. 

But that doesn't matter, because he is going to Paris with his boyfriend who is current sitting on his lap even though he knows he’s too big, and kissing him softly. 

“We should go to bed,” Louis says between kisses. “Got an early flight.” 

“Mhm,” Harry hums, kissing down his neck now. 

Louis just sighs, it feels too nice to make him stop. 

They go to bed, but they don't sleep. 

So if when they wake up at six in the morning to Harry’s annoying alarm clock, and utterly exhausted; it would be their own fault. 

Neither of them seem to mind though, thinking it was _definitely_ worth it. 

And so they have a quick breakfast on the way to the train, eating fresh pastries at the universities café, and drinking herbal tea because Harry has gotten him hooked on this peach flavoured one. 

_**_

The train ride to Paris was painless. The hour drive to Folkestone, where the train leaves from, not so much. Apparently the entirety of London decided it would be great day to visit the town, so the motor way was jammed for a while before they finally made it to the station with just minutes to spare. 

Louis admits he may have been slightly too excited to cross cross the Channel Tunnel, so when Harry laughs at his incessant click of his camera taking photos (there’s really nothing to see but a dimly lit concrete tunnel), Louis doesn't care in the slightest. 

_**_

They call it the City of Love for a reason. The second they step foot onto french soil, the sights make Louis gasp. Everything is so beautiful, even the sky looks bluer. 

Harry smiles at Louis awed expression the whole way to the hotel. 

Louis still thinks Harry is more beautiful than the sights. Just the way Harry looks at him with those eyes makes his heart beat a little bit faster. 

So when they go past the Eiffel tower, Louis doesn't even notice, too busy admiring Harry instead. 

_**_

They decide to take first day in the city to just relax, and recover from all the travel. 

“We have nineteen more days, Lou, lets just take a nap and get some food.” Harry's request was reasonable enough. 

So they arrive at their hotel, check in, and sleep. Neither of them even bother looking at the room before they crash onto the plush king size bed, with its soft white linen, and cuddle into each other. 

Louis wraps his arm around Harry’s torso and settles into his warmth. 

_I love you_ , he thinks to himself. He really does, its not even been two months, and he knows now, is positive, he is in love with Harry. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be the last, might write a short epilogue aswell though. :)x


	5. five

chapter five

*H*

It’s their first proper day in Paris, today they plan on visiting the Notre Dame, Eiffel Tower, and strolling around the Marais.

Harry awakes in Louis’ familiar grasp, short strong arms wrapped around his torso. 

“Mornin’ sleepy head.” Harry mumbles, voice gruff from sleep.

“Morning sweet cheeks,” Louis says, planting a sloppy kiss on his cheek.

Harry rolls over to his left side to face louis, long dark curls fall in his eyes but he ignores it, giving him a proper kiss.

Louis brushes the curls back when the break apart.

“Lou, we’re in _Paris_. Lets go eat breakfast on the River Seine and explore like proper tourists.” Harry is excited. Super excited, he just wants to bask in the history and the romance that Paris has to offer. And he gets to do it with his Louis.

Louis rolls his eyes fondly, but obeys, rolling out of the warm sheets begrudgingly. 

Harry follows, shortly after admiring the way Louis’ bum looks when he walks. It’s a nice bum, _the nicest_ , what can he say? 

“Gonna take a quick shower,” Louis says, walking into the bathroom holding the fluffy white hotel towels. 

He hears the shower start running a few moments later, and spontaneously decides to join him. He could use a shower anyway, so why not. 

He strips out of his boxers before stepping into the steam, taking Louis’ smooth hips in his hands from behind and sucking a bruise into Louis’s neck. Marking him, so everyone knows who he's with when they walk down the streets. Because the hand holding wouldn't be obvious enough. 

“Hello there,” Louis says, taking a shaky breath, turning to face Harry in the small shower. 

Kissing Louis is fun. He is so soft and gentle. Like he might break Harry, even though Harry is more likely to break Louis, seeing as how incredibly and small he is. Harry loves how small he is, loves how he has to lean down to meet his lips, and to hug him. He loves Louis right now, on his tiptoes, kissing him urgently. 

Wandering hands brush wandering hands before his own land on Louis’s plush bum; Louis covers his entire body with quick, sweet kisses. 

Before long, it’s entirely evident that they will be getting _lunch_ on the Seine, rather than breakfast. And that is perfectly okay with the both of them. 

** 

Lunch is perfect. They're both still basking in that fresh after glow, just enjoying each others presence. 

Harry nibbles on his macaroons, and watches Louis sip his green tea. 

“Would it mean I have bad taste bad if I said I preferred the universities peach tea?” Louis says, wrinkling up his nose. He always has been very particular about his tea, ever since Harry has known him. Of course, now Harry can make it just how he likes. (The water has to be freshly boiled, and teabag steeped for 3 minutes. He likes white sugar, but not too much, and a two-second pour of 1% milk.) 

Louis offers him a sip, so he takes a small one. Louis doesn't have bad taste, this restaurant has bad tea. 

“No. It would mean I'm rubbing off on you more than I thought and you've been converted.” Harry winks on of those twinkling green eyes at Louis. 

“Rubbing off is right,” Louis retorts. 

The laugh Harry lets out at that moment is an equal mix of snort and squeal. It was slightly inhuman. Louis must find it fucking hilarious because he's bent over slapping his knee, a single man tear rolling down his cheek. 

Harry is red. He can feel it.

“Alright, alright. That’s enough now. Wasn't that funny” 

“It was though.” Louis gasps. 

The laughter subsides, but every few minutes Louis will stifle a giggle in his sweater. 

Harry just finds himself staring fondly, until its time to go to the Notre Dame. 

** 

Louis just stands and marvels at the massive structure in from of them when they arrive. It’s one thing to see the beautiful architecture in pictures and movies, but its even better in person. Harry squeezes his hand as they walk through the huge doors, to see the vast room before them. Its all tall ceilings and marble floors. 

He can’t help but think of all the history that has happened here, and he can’t help it when he gets goosebumps at the thought. 

“This is amazing,” Harry whispers to him. 

“It is,” Louis agrees. 

They don't talk very much, both too busy taking all of this in. 

And when they do talk, its whispered words, too afraid to say anything louder, in fear of somehow cracking the intricate carvings. They feel like they're in their own world, until a loud tourist is yelling at her kid to stop crying and they're snapped out of it. 

They don't mind too much, looking on fondly at the child who’s crying over a big rip in his teddy bear. 

**  
The nice thing about Paris is how close a lot of the main attractions are, just a short bus ride away, at most. Its quite convenient. 

They visit the Eiffel tower next. 

It’s amazing, but the queue to take the lift to the top isn’t. 

“C’mon Harry,” Louis pleads when Harry is visibly balking at the amount of people, “this is a once in a lifetime thing, we have to do it.” 

Harry isn't strong enough to say no, not when Louis is batting those long lashes at him. So they get in the queue. 

_My favourite thing about Chopsuey is his eyelashes._ He recalls the drunken night a month ago, when he decided that Louis’ new nickname was Chopsuey, because it rhymed with Louis. 

They stand in line for an insane amount of time, Harry checks his watch, and that’s confirmed. Three hours later, and they are next to go up. 

“You ready?” Louis whispers in his ear, and Harry thinks he’s ready for anything, as along as he is with Louis. 

The lift ride is quick, and terrifying. Harry has never loved heights. But as the lift continues to ascend the tall structure, Harry cannot help but admire the view. 

The view is quite beautiful, he thinks. All feathery fringe and soft lips, and eyes bluer than the sky. His heart flutters, but not from fear. 

They get to the top, and they are left utterly and completely speechless. You can see the whole of the city from up here. The people look like specs in the distance, just going about their lives, unbeknownst to them the sights above them. 

Its when they're standing wrapped in each others arms and looking out at the horizon that Louis whispers a soft “Thank you, Harry. This is amazing.” 

Harry presses a soft kiss to his lips in reply. 

They watch the sun set from the top of the Eiffel tower, and the only thing Harry can think about is how he needs to tell Louis he loves him. So, he thinks, he will. It has to be done at the right moment. He already has something in mind. 

*L* 

Harry gets to choose where they go the next day, and to Louis’ surprise (not actually, because he is Harry ‘I read poetry’ Styles, and Louis knows him so well that he has become just slightly predictable) he chooses to take the bus, with Louis sat on his lap, to Shakespeare  & Company. 

The store is crammed with books, every nook and cranny stuffed completely. 

The look of complete wonder on Harry’s face is enough for him to break out the fond face. He watches as Harry drags longs fingers over the spines of leather bound books, occasionally pulling the occasional one off of the shelf to read a snippet of. 

When Louis finds themselves alone in the stacks, he might steal a quick kiss or two, much to harry’s chagrin. 

“Lou, you know how much I hate PDA,” And Louis does know this, but he feels Harry moan quietly into his mouth despite his apparent aversion to public kisses anyway. He usually gets over his hatred of it pretty quick, if Louis can help it. 

They leave the shop a half hour later, with Harry’s hands full of musty old yellowing poetry books and an excited look upon his cute little face. 

It’s out of nowhere, when Harry says, stopping and turning his body towards Louis, _“In my collection of poems, do not ever doubt that you aren't my favourite chapter, my main theme, my masterpiece.”_

This sudden outburst of random poetry brings Louis back to the months that seem so distant now, to when he was only just getting to know Harry, with their little ‘tours’ and lunchtime picnic conversations. He remembers the little embarrassed look Harry would get on his face whenever he would accidentally spout his little facts and quote, because it's currently on displayed on his beautiful face right now. 

_Louis loves him. So much._

** 

The next 14 days go by in a blur of Disney Paris, Castles, dinner cruises on the river, wine tours, cheese tastings and shopping. They celebrate Harrys birthday drinking champagne, and looking at little flats just for fun, fantasizing about living in Paris one day in a home of their own with lots of little feet pattering on the floors. 

They decided early on to save the best, _meaning the museums_ , for last. For today, since they leave in just under three days. 

So, it is decided with a bit of convincing on Harry’s part (Louis had claimed he was tired, but he knew he was being difficult on purpose, so he just kissed him and stated that they _will_ be going today), with such a small amount of left, that they should go to the Louvre. 

Louis and Harry walk around the vast museum, though he crowds, making conversation about the beautiful works of art surround them. /p >

When they enter the room containing the Van Gogh’s, they hesitate. This is the highlight of their trip, the thing they talked about most when they spent a few late nights making their itinerary, and packing their suitcases in preparation. They both decided the painting they wanted to see most was The Starry Night.  
So when they walk towards the painting, hung against a white wall, his small hand grasped behind Harry’s larger on and with synchronized steps. 

They are instantly enthralled by its beauty. Fluid lines of bright yellows and blues fill the canvas, and its just _so beautiful._ But Louis doesn't think he would call it a masterpiece. 

Harry squeezes his hand tightly, and Louis knows what he is feeling as the step closer to the painting. 

It takes everything in him to turn away from the painting when he notices Harry is speaking to him. 

“Theres something I need to tell you, Louis.” 

He is filled with dread for a brief moment, having heard those words pre breakup before, but when he sees the look in Harry’s eyes, he knows its going the opposite direction. 

The one Louis had planned on going today, too. 

“There’s something I need to tell you, too.” 

And so they nod a quick little understanding and say it at the same time. 

“I love you, so much, Louis.” Harry says. 

“I love you more than you could possible know.” Louis says. 

He can feel his stomach doing that free falling thing again, but it’s better this time, because he knows Harry is feeling the exact same way. 

And standing there, in this massive museum filled with countless works of priceless art, he knows now that the Starry night couldn't ever be classified as a masterpiece in his mind, because Louis swears Harry is the only masterpiece he has ever seen, the only masterpiece in this entire building. 

And so when they kiss and say _I love you_ over and over again,  
Harry just thinks to himself, 

_Our love has become an art._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hoped you liked this :) There will be a little epilogue posted in a few days, so keep your eye out for that.
> 
> Thank you from taking the time to read, it means a lot.xx


	6. Epilogue

Epilogue

*H*

 

“Wake up, babycakes.” Harry says, lightly tapping Louis cheeks.

“Mhm, gimme five more minutes.” Louis replies, snuggling deeper into their warm bed and Harry’s arms.

Harry thought he would eventually get used to waking up next to Louis everyday after he asked him to move in three short years ago, just a month after they had said their _“I love you’s”_. He hasn’t, still feeling incredibly lucky to see this beautiful boy first thing every single day. He wouldn't have it any other way.

“Just think, after today you'll never have to wake up for uni again. You are _graduating_ today, I'm so proud…” He says, kissing Louis’ head.

Louis smiles at this, and finally sits up, only looking slightly rumpled from sleep. Still so incredibly beautiful, though.

Harry might be twenty-five now, but he feels just as young as he was three years ago when he looks into Lou’s eyes. Those beautiful blue eyes, even prettier than the Starry Night, or _any_ of Monet's ‘Water Lilies' that they saw whilst in Paris. Which reminds him. . .

“I have a surprise for you.” Harry says, and watches as Louis eyes snap up from where he was tracing Harry’s large ship tattoo, and looking at his own compass. They have many other complementary tattoos, but these are their favourites.

 

At first Louis had a slight aversion to tattoos, Claiming he would only get them if they complemented someone else’s. And so they got their first words etched onto their skin to start with, not too big or painful for Louis’ first tattoo. Then Louis got a rope for Harrys anchor, and a cup of tea because Harry cant go to bed without one. It was all the little things they loved about each other, etched onto their skin forever. _Forever_. 

“After your graduation tonight, we are going on a trip. New York.” He cant conceal the excitement in his voice when he says these words.

After browsing online for sometime a few weeks ago, he came across the news that Vincent Van Gogh’s ‘The Starry Night” would be moving over seas, all the way from where they saw it in Paris at the Louvre, to the Museum of Modern Art in Manhattan. 

They were going to follow it there, and if Harry has something more planned, it's a surprise. 

“Harry. Please don't be joking right now. Are you joking?” Louis cant sit still, bouncing around little in his pyjamas.

“I’m definitely not joking,” Harry says and opens up his nightstand drawer to pull out an envelope he had hidden, glancing at the little blue velvet box stuffed into the farthest corner of the drawer, “here.”

Louis rips the envelope open to see two very real plane tickets to New York City, landing at John F. Kennedy airport. 

“Holy shit.”

“Do you like it, are you excited?” Harry knows he is excited, can tell by the shine in his eyes.

“Of course I'm excited! This is insane!” He lunges forward to grasp his arms around harry, peppering his entire face with little kisses.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

And then louses up and gathering their passports, and pulling out the suitcases that Harry decides need to be used more often.

**

“ _Louis Tomlinson, graduating with a Bachelors degree in Drama and the Arts_ wasn't such a great playwright. Or when he was stressing over a deadline and just wanted a good, long cuddle.

But he was there, and he watched Louis grow as a person, from this soft little eighteen year old boy, to a man with tattoos and stubble that he likes to rub his face on, and now he is watching all of Louis’ effort pay off and he is just _so fucking proud_. 

Louis sends a quick little wave their way before he has to exit the stage, making eye contact with Harry and blowing him a secret little kiss. Harry pretends to catch it.

**

Later that night after they've bid farewells to all the girls, and they have received the minimum of fifty goodbye hugs from their mums, they are on their way to Heathrow airport to board their flight to New York.

Harry is driving, and Louis is splayed out across the back seat of their little Mini Cooper Louis just absolutely had to have. He didn't mind it though, Louis looks quite cute when he is driving it.

Every time Harry shifts his leg, he can feel the little box weighing in his pocket.

**

Three months after Louis moved into his flat, Harry knew. He knew even then that what him and Louis had was a forever type thing. It wasn't just a fling, god knows that much, he fell too fast for it to be anything resembling one. 

They had known each other for what seemed like so little time, but they were already so in tune with each other.

Sometimes when they made plans with Liam, Zayn and Niall to get a pint or something, he would glance over to find the blonde boy staring in fascination.

“You guys are around each other too much, startin' to mirror.” he had explained

“Yeah, it’s a bit freaky, innit?” Zayn had said, agreeing with his boyfriend.

Apparently they had both picked up their drinks to sip at the same time, and rubbed their noses completely in synch. Harry wasn't all that surprised, his unless knowledge providing him with the simple explanation that couples start to become subconsciously attuned to each other and their bodies, even their movements. 

So that was when Harry had started to think about this inevitable forever they would have together, and how he could make going about asking for the his future as romantic as possible.

He bought a ring two weeks later.

*L*

They arrive in the city about 12 hours later, exhausted from a night of travel in first class.

Harry had received a last minute upgrade from economy class from one of his more generous clients to make up for having Harry leave one of his and Louis’ date nights to go and secure a painting for him. Louis wasn't too happy, but it was okay in the end, because they got to fly first class. That was something that had always been on Louis’ bucket list, and now he could tick it off, along with going to New York.

So for first class you would think they'd have slept much better, or Harry at least, Louis thought. He has nothing to worry about.

Louis only worries about the fact that there is a little green box stuffed into his carry on bag, hidden where he thinks Harry wont find it, wrapped in some of his pants.

So if Louis is nervous because his entire future is contained in a box smaller than his palm, he thinks its justifiable. 

**  
They're finally here.

It’s incredible. The skyline is incredible. Harry is incredible for giving him these amazing trips.

They're walking along a busy little street, stopping every once in a while to snap a photo of themselves in front of the sights.

Over the course of four days, they go to the Statue of Liberty, they take a tour around the city and see the Brooklyn Bridge, Central Park and Times Square. They are tourists in a city similar to their own in many ways, but it feels so different. Just the way the air smells and the sun shines is so completely different that Louis has to stop and remember that they’re across an ocean from their little flat in London.

They wait in a ridiculously long queue to go to the top of the Empire State building, and pay their respects at the 9/11 memorial. 

And on their last day, keeping with tradition, the go to the Modern Museum of Art, saving the best for last. 

They walk through slowly, taking in all the art and their surroundings.

They save The Starry Night for last. 

Louis can feel his palms start to sweat, and he isn't sure if its hot from the masses of people, or if he is nervous. Its probably the latter.

He takes a deep breath as they approach the painting, and stop directly in front. Just like last time, its beautiful.

But Louis needs to do this before the moment passes and tourists shove them out of the way to get their pictures of the painting.

“Harry, I love you.”

“I love you too, Lou”

They share a sweet kiss, and when Louis turns around to sneak the box out of his hoodie pocket, he finds harry on one knee in front of him.

Louis almost laughs, because only they would be proposing to each other at the same time, but Harry freezes up comically when he does. He must thinks he looks stupid or something. He looks beautiful, always. 

“No, baby, its not you. Its just,” he gets down on one knee too.

Harrys eyes widen, and he breaths a laugh.

“Oh.” he says when the box comes into view.

Louis opens the little green box, to reveal the engagement ring he had picked out over 2 years ago now, he was ready to marry him even then, but Harry doesn't need to now that little bit of information.

The ring is silver, with a thin gold line running through it. 

Harry opens his box, and Louis is crying now.

Harry bought him a gold ring with a thick of silver running through it, twisted like rope.

“Oh my god.” Louis says, because this is actually happening. 

“Well, my love, it appears we had the same idea for today. But I want you to know how much I love you. So much. You are my life line, the rope to my anchor, pulling me out of the depths. You are so, so beautiful, and I love you so much. Will you marry me?” Harry asks.

“Of course, I will you oaf, I love you.” Louis laughs and cries all at the same time while Harry slips the ring onto his left hand, it fits perfectly.

“So I guess I don't really have to ask anymore, do I?” Louis giggles, wiping a little tear off his face. Harry laughs too, a happy sound escaping his mouth.

“Will you marry me, Harry?” It’s simple, yet effective, he decides.

“Yes. But only because it rhymes.” Harry says, and his hand shakes a little when he holds it our for Louis to grip.

They both stand up and encapsulate each other in an embrace, before slotting their lips together in a passionate kiss, teeth nipping at each others lips. 

The crowd around them cheers, with many cameras taking video. Louis thinks he’ll have to ask one of them for it before he goes back to kissing Harry.

“Oh, don't forget this,” he slips the silver sing onto Harry’s long finger. 

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

*H*

Later that night, as they lay cuddled in messy sheets, Harry decides to ask the question that had been dancing on his lips since they got engaged.

“Louis Styles or Harry Tomlinson? We asked at the same time, so I was just wondering.”

“I quite like the sound of Harry Tomlinson, and I will admit thats always how I thought it would be when we got married. But either is fine, as long as I get to marry you.” 

“Harry Tomlinson. I’ve always liked the ring it has to it, have for years.”

Louis is surprised because he thought he was the only one who thought of commitment that early in their time together.

“Me too.” He says simply, because it’s true.

“Harry Tomlinson, I cant wait to be your spouse, Lou, I love you.”

Harry loves the word spouse, and thinks it doesn't get used nearly enough. He will be using it every chance he gets from now on.

“I love you too. Forever.”

**

Their wedding is a small affair, close friends and family only, at the in the art gallery at museum where they fell in love. It was perfect.

They cried as they said their vows.

“Do you, Louis William Tomlinson, take Harry to be you lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do.” Louis looks Harry in the eyes, and Harry squeezes their joined hands.

“Do you, Harry Edward Styles, take Louis to be your lawfully wedded Husband?”

“I do.” 

“Then with the power invested in me, I now pronounce you Husband, and Husband. You may now kiss the groom.” The officiant smiles, and steps back to give them space,

And so they kiss. They kiss with a newfound passion they never knew that they had and its perfect.

Their families are clapping and cheering as they walk hand in hand down the carpet aisle between all the chairs, making their way into forever, together.

**

Its late that night, when they wedding is over and they're on a flight to Italy, that Harry speaks a random quote, in true Harry fashion. 

His little outbursts are one of the countless reasons Louis fell in love with the curly haired boy.

“Our love is timeless, like an oil painting. Better than any Monet or Van Gogh.” Harry gets the embarrassed little smile that he knows too well.

“And who said this?” Louis asks, because it's a beautiful saying. 

It describes the entirety of his and his _Husbands_ relationship in one sentence. It brings back memories of lunches in the courtyard at his old job, and of newer memories taking place in the café by the school he teaches drama at. It makes him remember the road trips to little galleries all around England, because just like Harry, Louis fell in love with art.

It makes him think of Harry, and that is why he likes it.

“Me.”

And Louis just stares at him, because he is so in love with this boy he thought was so out of reach, but the boy is looking at him with the same love in his eyes that Louis knows must be on display in his own.

“ _Love is an art_ ,” he says, taking Harry’s hand in his own, “ _and ours could fill a museum_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading my fic :) i really hope you enjoyed it. any comments questions or concerns can be asked in the comments, hopefully i did the concept justice haha :)x

**Author's Note:**

> So basically this is my first fic, unless you count the super terrible ones when you wrote when you were twelve, in which case this would be my second fic. I saw this tumblr post and I kind just went hey, i could totally write this, so i did. I probably won't end up following it religiously, though.  
> (This fic has not been britpicked or edited by anyone but myself, so any mistakes are my own, feel free to comment them.) 
> 
> Hopefully it's not too terrible.
> 
> Original inspiration https://pbs.twimg.com/media/COC1fFXU8AAKvbN.jpg


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